


so viele lichter sind geblieben

by madanach



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-28
Updated: 2014-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-19 02:27:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2371058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madanach/pseuds/madanach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh Captain, may I be allowed the great honor of disrobing you now?” Lukas does his best to keep a straight face, but Basti can’t manage it, giggling in a very undignified manner before going “Yeah, yeah, okay.”</p><p>Armband kink for the footy ficathon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	so viele lichter sind geblieben

**Author's Note:**

> alright, i wanted to write something short for the [footy ficathon](http://thesilverwitch.livejournal.com/31896.html), but then i got carried away and whatever this is happened. it isn't even particularly _good_ porn.
> 
> unbeta'd, any mistakes are my own, please tell me if there is anything glaringly obvious to fix, etc etc.

They only make it to his room long after the friendly against Argentina is over, after God knows how many interviews, a long day made longer by the dull sting of defeat. Basti’s still smiling, content with being with the team again, even if only briefly and marred by injury. He spares no solemnity for his new role as Captain - Lukas wonders if it’s even sunk in yet.

To test, he pulls the armband out of his pocket where he stuck it, hastily, after the game. Basti looks up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and raises his eyebrows.

“How did I know you were going to steal that?” Basti asks, grinning. Lukas smiles cheekily and throws it at him.

“Put it on.”

“What?” Basti asks, still smiling. Lukas shrugs.

“I want to see it on you.”

Basti cocks his head but obliges, slipping off his blazer and tossing it carelessly onto the dresser. He’s wearing a black V-neck underneath it and it’s not his uniform but it’ll do, showing just enough skin as Basti pulls the armband up over his bicep and tucks the sleeve neatly in. Lukas lounges against the doorframe, watching carefully as Basti makes a show of smelling the admittedly-less-than-clean fabric, wrinkling his nose and then grinning.

“Gross, man. You sweat like a pig.”

“Wow, thanks,” Lukas says. “I feel inspired. Captain,” he adds, revels in the way Basti beams.

“You did so well,” Basti says when Lukas crosses over to kneel in front of him. “I like watching you play.” Lukas rests his arms on either side of Basti’s thighs, presses his forehead into the divot of Basti’s collarbone. He feels lips, light, on the crown of his head.

“I like that you like to watch me play,” he says, eyes closed, forehead pressed to Basti’s thudding heart. 

“Get up here,” Basti says, and Lukas crawls up, over him, pushing him down until every inch of their bodies is touching, breath hot in the angle of Basti’s shoulder. He can’t stop himself from pressing a kiss there, and another, and another, Basti baring his neck to give him better access, sighing contentedly when Lukas noses the soft underside of his jaw. When his hand wanders under Basti’s shirt, in the corner of his eye, he sees him smile.

“Off,” Lukas mumbles. Basti snorts and wiggles ridiculously, letting Lukas push the fabric up under his armpits and shrugging it over his head. His sleeve catches on the armband and then is tugged out, leaving black-red-gold the only spot of color on swathes of pale skin.

Lukas sits up, heavy on Basti’s thighs, lets his eyes wander - the red mark on his neck where Lukas’ teeth were only a moment ago, pale and jagged lines on his collarbone where they had to operate, dip in his stomach that’s less of a belly button and more of a scar. Lukas reaches out and touches it, drags his finger down the barely-there trail of hair to linger at Basti’s waistband. Basti’s not young anymore, has practice enough to resist such a light caress, but Lukas can see the way his chest is heaving. He balls his fingers into a fist, and shit - Lukas barely touched him.

“God,” Lukas breathes, at the same time Basti says, voice tight, “Lukas.”

This - thing, whatever it is, between them, goes marrow-deep, has been taking root since they were kids fucking around the first time they were called to the national team, grew into something at once both familiar and terrifyingly, wonderfully new. Lukas can snatch the words out of Basti’s mouth before he says them but when they give in and fall into each other in the dead of night, holding so tightly they could become one, is when he gets to taste the thrill of discovery again. The first time they kissed Lukas realized Basti uses peppermint toothpaste and can’t hold himself back from giggling and likes to cup his face in both hands like he does on the field, but the first time they kissed with intent Lukas realized that the way he sagged against him meant he was waiting for Lukas to hold him up, for once forgetting all swagger and bravado, delighted just to kiss him stupid in empty hallways with no thought for consequences. Eight years later and Lukas might be used to the way Basti’s hands are colder than the rest of him but God, the sight of his best friend lying there with the hopes of a country tied around his arm is new and overwhelming and lights a fire that _Stolz_ seems too insignificant to name. 

“What are you looking at?” Basti asks cheekily, running his hands up Lukas’ thighs. Lukas comes back to himself and answers by tugging Basti up by the arm, ignoring his laugh of surprise and cupping his face in both hands, Basti’s arms winding around his waist, pulling him close.

“I love you,” Lukas says, bumping their foreheads together.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Basti says, and breathes - once, twice - against Lukas’ mouth before slotting their lips together.

Basti is an enthusiastic kisser and Lukas would say the same for himself, but he takes extra care to bite Basti’s bottom lip before opening his mouth all the way, knowing that when they break apart for air it will be red and slick and wet and Basti will look up at him with hunger and adoration in that way he has before diving back in, high off of _them_ in a way Lukas’ never seen him elsewhere.

“Take your shirt off,” Basti mumbles, presses a kiss to the corner of Lukas’ mouth. Lukas furrows his brow. He had the vague notion of making this some sort of worship, focused on Basti and Basti entirely, but chuckles and accepts the futility of that idea when Basti pokes him sharply in the ribs and then bites the underside of his neck, saying sharper, “Off, Lukas.”

“Alright,” Lukas concedes, but pushes Basti farther up the bed before doing so. Basti crawls towards the headboard and sinks back onto the pillows, watching Lukas with interest as he strips off his training kit and then makes to move back on top of Basti. Basti stops him with a foot on his thigh.

“Pants, too,” he says.

“You first,” Lukas argues. Basti’s lying there in jeans, which is criminal, because Lukas wants his hands everywhere.

Basti grins wickedly, and well, Lukas would be lying if he didn’t expect it at some point but the words still go straight to his dick when Basti says, “You’re supposed to listen to your Captain.”

Oh. _Oh_ , that’s not fair at all, and Lukas tells him so but not without stripping off his shorts obediently, flinging them unceremoniously to the side. Basti gives him a shit-eating grin. Lukas crawls back over him, hands going to his belt buckle.

“Oh Captain, may I be allowed the great honor of disrobing you now?” Lukas does his best to keep a straight face, but Basti can’t manage it, giggling in a very undignified manner before going “Yeah, yeah, okay.”

Lukas makes short work of the buckle and Basti does his best to kick the jeans off despite the fact that he’s still underneath Lukas and their thighs rub together teasingly every time Basti kicks his leg. When the offending clothes are safely piled on the floor at the end of the bed, Lukas finally lets himself fall forward, pressing a kiss to the V of Basti’s hips before trailing a line up his stomach, biting and sucking when he gets closer to Basti’s neck, fingers finding the fabric wrapped around Basti’s bicep, holding him down. Basti hums contentedly and strokes Lukas’ nape with his free hand, running down into the angle of his neck, over his shoulders and then back again. When Lukas bites the hinge of his jaw he swears softly, hand spread over Lukas’ shoulderblade, digs his nails in and pushes his entire body down into the mattress so he can crane his neck enough to kiss Lukas stupid, messy and wonderful, all tongue and teeth. 

“I want you to fuck me,” he gasps when Lukas grinds down into Basti’s hips. “Lukas, I want-“

“Yes,” Lukas says, hysterical with the way Basti tugs his banded arm out of Lukas’ grasp and laces their fingers together, pulls their joined hands even further up so that Lukas falls into him. Basti arches up into him, other hand dropping to grope his ass, and Lukas moans quietly. “Anything,” he says, and Basti falls back into the pillow to hear the words properly, “Anything, God, anything.”

“Anything,” Basti echoes, kisses Lukas until he can’t breathe. Lukas feels Basti’s erection pressed into his thigh and pushes into him, gasping when Basti just spreads his legs wider.

“Fuck,” Lukas mumbles, and drops lower, bites the V of muscle at his stomach and then pulls down Basti’s underwear, hoping he doesn’t notice how his hands are shaking. Basti never fails to overwhelm him, overload his senses until he’s on the brink of coming just from the sensation of dull nails scraping through his hair. He nuzzles Basti’s inner thigh and then makes himself sit up, Basti whining from the lack of contact.

“Lube,” he says, by way of explanation, and stumbles off the bed towards the bathroom, rifling through his things until he finds a bottle and a condom. Behind him, Basti swears.

“Next time get that first,” Basti says loudly. Lukas smiles despite himself, because there were years when they weren’t guaranteed a _next time_ , their own uncertainty and stupidity threatening to deny them the one thing they realized is a given. He wonders vaguely what that makes them now. Older, yeah. Smarter.

“Lukas!” Basti calls in frustration. Lukas peeks out from the bathroom, drinks in the sight of Basti, stark naked, palming himself idly, flag on his arm bobbing whenever he moves his hand.

“That’s obscene,” Lukas says.

“Let me touch you before I go insane,” Basti retorts. Lukas grins and kicks off his own boxers, sliding back into bed, and Basti reaches immediately for his dick. Lukas swears loudly, dropping his head to Basti’s shouder and watching his hand move between them. He catches sight of the armband in the corner of his eye and twists, with great effort, to whisper in Basti’s ear.

“This is probably - ah - this is probably not appropriate for your new rank.”

“Fuck that,” Basti says with a smile that only grows broader when he squeezes tighter and Lukas moans, falling forward as his arms, briefly, turn to jelly.

“Enough,” Basti says then, letting go of Lukas with a sigh. “I want you inside me, come on.”

Lukas glares at him, so hard he’s having trouble focusing. “You can’t say those things and expect me to keep it together,” he says, fully aware of his cock leaking onto Basti’s stomach.

“I don’t want you to keep it together,” Basti says impatiently. “I just want you inside me. Please,” he says, and bucks up.

Lukas groans, snatching the bottle of lube from where he abandoned it and spreading it over his fingers messily. Basti angles his hips up, waiting, and Lukas leans over him as far as he can before pushing a finger inside.

“Oh,” Basti says breathlessly. “Oh, fuck, _fuck_.”

“Good?” Lukas asks, nosing at Basti’s cheek. Basti nods fervently, the ghost of his breath against Lukas’ temple ragged.

“Always,” Basti says hoarsely, “Good, so good, _more_.”

Lukas crooks his finger and Basti hisses, writhing against him until he pushes in a second. He scissors him open and Basti’s mouth goes from a perfect O-shape into a broad grin, eyes tight shut, head thrown back as far as it can go. He arches his back and Lukas has to sit up to look at him, just _look_ , sweating and beautiful and twisted in the sheets, Captain’s band bold on his arm.

“Get on with it,” Basti breathes, opening his eyes to look at Lukas properly. “Do it now, I want to feel you, fuck the pain, come _on_.”

These are the things Lukas lives for, that Basti would break himself for blood and country but the only time he ever looks that way is at _him_ , and it makes Lukas feel powerful in the most terrifying way. _It’s a heavy weight_ , Basti had said, when they discussed the possibility of his captaincy.

Lukas couldn’t do it, couldn’t hold Germany together, couldn’t bear that burden, but Basti can, and Lukas can hold Basti.

“Give me a second,” he says, fumbling for the condom as Basti bites his lip impatiently, gritting his teeth when Lukas pulls his fingers out.

“Now,” Basti says, “Now, now,” and wraps both arms around Lukas’ shoulders. Lukas lines himself up, breath hitching as the tip of his cock hits Basti’s entrance, and when he pushes in, Basti cries out.

It’s always so much, every damn time, the feeling of Basti hot and tight around him but God, there are a few heartstopping seconds where they just drink each other in, not moving, Basti’s breath hot against his neck, legs wrapped around his waist, and Basti presses a shaky kiss to the hinge of his jaw before whispering “Lukas,” and Lukas knows what he’s going to say before he says it, hopes fervently that he has enough strength in his arms to keep himself up. He slides out slickly, almost but not all the way, and then pushes in again, and Basti’s arms tighten around him.

“So good, you’re always so good,” Basti laughs breathlessly. Lukas builds up a jerky rhythm, overwhelming feeling of being held together leaving spots behind his eyelids. He knows there are things he wants to tell him but he can’t find words in any language, kisses Basti desperately in the hope that he’ll pick up on the things he can’t say.

“I love you so fucking much,” Basti says into his neck, and Lukas guesses he understands.

It doesn’t take long for him to come, not when Basti keeps talking, filthy and beautiful, but he makes sure to angle himself so that Basti cries out, grin broad upon his face, and comes into Lukas’ hand before letting himself follow. They lay there, panting, sticky-wet.

“I’ll never get tired of that,” Lukas admits when he finally lists to the side, giving Basti room to breathe.

“Mmhm, better not,” Basti says, blissed-out look lingering on his face. “I’d lose it.”

Lukas feels his smile break into a full-blown grin, hopes vainly that he doesn’t look as goofy as he knows he does. When he’s in London and Basti’s in Munich it’s easy to forget how stupidly in love he is. When they’re together, it’s like he’s never known anything else.

“I like the armband,” Basti decides.

“No shit,” Lukas says, and when Basti kicks him and presses a kiss to his shoulder, Lukas files _loves me entirely_ under the list of things he guesses he knew all along.


End file.
